Something Borrowed, Something Red
by Operation Milkdud
Summary: Mashburn asks Lisbon to marry him. The office shrink asks Jane how he feels about that.
1. The Almighty Power of Windex

Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist, but I would breakdance naked in a McDonald's to own Simon Baker.

**1. The Almighty Powers of Windex**

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><p>"Okay, Patrick. Today's the day. Are you ready?"<p>

"Absolutely. I only hope you will walk away from this with minimal scarring."

"That doesn't sound very positive, Patrick."

"Good. At least we know I'm still in my right mind...so to speak."

"Would you mind giving me your journal now?"

"Certainly. Although...don't take the first few entries too personally. I really didn't like you at all in the beginning."

Patrick Jane looked at his shrink and friend, and smiled his crooked smile, as if challenging her. Helping him just wasn't possible, but he respected her enough to allow her to try.

"I hope you were this honest in your writing." She raised an eyebrow. He mimicked the expression.

"Brutally."

**-:-**

DAY ONE

He simply could not tolerate it any longer.

That was the reason he gave to his reflection to explain why he was talking to a mirror in the first place.

It hadn't been his idea, mind you. He had better things to do than try to work out his "personal issues" (which weren't that severe...really!) every morning and evening. But weeks after beginning a crushing downward spiral, he'd given in to Grace's insistence that he see the office shrink.

And so he had.

In accordance with every experience he had had of conversing with such a person, the shrink had given him a task to complete before breakfast and dinner each day. This was done in hopes that the shrink themselves wouldn't have to do any actual counseling, and the healing and self-discovery was left entirely up to the patient.

Jane's only discovery so far on Monday were three small lines at the corners of each of his eyes, and a rabbit-shaped spot on his bathroom mirror.

He copied these interesting findings in the journal which the good doctor had insisted Jane purchase.

_AUGUST 21ST, 7:30 AM:_

_Laugh lines. Need to clean mirror._

Feeling pleased with himself, he tucked the pen inside the journal and closed it. Tucking it under his arm, he nodded once at his reflection, said, "Thank you for your helpful insight," and headed to work.

**-:-**

"So, how'd it go Friday?" Grace asked, almost as soon as he stepped off the elevator. Jane stopped, kept his face very serious, and handed his journal to the eager redhead. "Is this your diary?" She opened it to the first page and grimaced. Rigsby came to stand behind her, shoving half a jelly donut into his mouth at once.

"''Laugh lines. Need to clean mirror,'" she read aloud, sounding greatly disappointed. Rigsby swallowed.

"You should use Windex," he offered, obviously thinking this to be a profound suggestion.

"Thank you, Rigsby!" Jane exclaimed, overcome with gratitude. "A good cleaner is so hard to find these days."

"Jane, I think you need to take this more seriously." Grace closed his journal and returned it to him.

"How much more seriously can I take it, Grace? I spent three dollars and ninety-nine cents on this!" he said, waving the journal.

Grace rolled her eyes and returned to her desk, Rigsby following close behind. Smiling, Jane let himself into Lisbon's office, sank down on the couch and put up his feet. He wedged the journal beneath one of the couch cushions.

"Morning, Jane."

"Morning, Lisbon. How are you today?"

"I'm fine," she asked warily, "and how are you?"

"I could be better. That crazy doctor friend of Grace's has me writing down notes on my appearance and feelings."

"And what have you concluded thus far?"

"I have crow's feet. It makes me feel old." If it weren't for how genuinely distressed he sounded, Lisbon probably wouldn't have giggled. Jane threw her a look over his shoulder.

"Well, you have to admit, you're no spring chicken. And Dr. Owen is trying to help you. Let her."

Jane sat up and turned to face Lisbon, a look of sheer amusement on his face. Lisbon cringed.

"What?"

"Did...you...just say...'spring chicken?'"

Lisbon rolled her eyes and continued filling out paperwork. Jane would not be satisfied, however; he repeated the phrase 'spring chicken' about a thousand times that day, and everyone in the building looked the other way when a stapler strongly resembling Teresa Lisbon's went flying at his head.

_AUGUST 21ST, 9:47 PM:_

_Golf-ball sized growth on forehead, courtesy of Lisbon. Bought a bottle of  
><em>_Windex during lunch hour. Accompanied assailant to her car this evening,  
>because I am a nice person. Did not receive an apology.<br>Going to bed early. Will resemble 'spring chicken' in the morning._

**-:-**

Things continued in such a manner all week. Jane dutifully awoke every morning and recorded the thoughts that came easiest to him. He knew this wasn't the objective, but he decided if he had to participate, then Dr. Amelia Owen should have to, as well.

Their second meeting was set for Friday afternoon. Jane arrived, clutching his journal. Dr. Owen looked up from her desk as he closed her office door. Tiny glasses were slid to the bridge of her delicate nose, her short brown hair meticulously sprayed to stay in place. Her frame was similar to Lisbon's, only, as Jane was amazed to notice for the second time, she was even smaller. Almost pixie-like.

The word "shrink" seemed appropriate enough.

"Please, Patrick. Have a seat," she greeted him cheerfully. Jane sat obediently, eager to get the meeting over with so that she could sign his "mentally astute" slip and send him back to the real world. He extended his journal to her; she shook her head and pushed it back toward him.

"That's for you, Jane. For the next few months, I'd like you to continue writing down your thoughts twice a day, like we discussed. I'll only read them at the end of our time together." She shuffled some papers around on her desk and raised a cup of coffee to her lips.

"But...how are you going to help me if you don't keep up with my progress?" Jane asked, suspicious. Dr. Owen returned her coffee to her desk.

"Patrick, the words in your journal aren't what is important. It is what you learn from them. When you come in here, read over what you've written in the past and tell me what you think it means."

"Isn't that your job?"

"It's my job to deduce what has led you into your way of thinking, to find out if there is something that can be done to open your eyes to a different view." She smiled crookedly at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"That sounds like a PhD talking."

She winked at him.

"You'd better believe it. So what have you learned from yourself this week?" Right down to business, this woman. Jane liked her already. She was very similar to Lisbon.

"Not a thing, I'm sorry to report. I have wrinkles, I have too little furniture, Lisbon is constantly harassing me to the point that I need medical attention five days out of seven...but on the bright side, every reflective surface within a ten-mile radius of this building is now spotless!"

Dr. Owen regarded him with some distaste.

"What, no comment?"

"Your attempt at deflection is completely transparent, Patrick. Tell me what's been bothering you this week, or for however long you've felt so badly that you ultimately ended up in that chair."

Jane stalled. This woman was looking directly through him. Transparent, she'd said. He had a feeling she just might have a talent for reading people, as well.

"Nothing. That's it. Nothing has changed. My routine is the same. I come to work, try to catch Red John, bicker with the team, bicker with Lisbon..."

"And nothing is different, you say?" she probed, leaning forward in her chair. Jane found himself unable to maintain eye contact.

"Nope. It's all work and no play," he said, sounding resigned. Dr. Owen pursed her lips.

"Oh? So how's the wedding planning going?" she asked, relaxing into her chair with the air of someone who had succeeded in striking a nerve, and relishing in that triumph.

Jane looked up.

"I'm not involved," he said quickly, his eyes narrowing on her. What was she up to?

Dr. Owen was nonplussed. She plowed forward, even as Jane shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"You mean to tell me that Ms. Lisbon has not requested your participation in one of the biggest events of her life? That's odd. And you two appear to be so close." Dr. Owen spoke fluidly, leaning toward him with every word, sipping her coffee and fighting the compulsion to grin madly. She wasn't doing very well.

"I know Lisbon, very well," Jane quipped, extinguishing the ludicrous idea that he and Lisbon weren't the closest of friends. But then his face fell. "She wouldn't want me to do anything crazy and mess things up for her."

"Why would you want to?"

"I don't," he answered, shrugging, "but that's what I do." Silence.

Then Dr. Owen said, sympathetically, "This is what I think, Patrick...you know deep down what's causing you to feel the way you feel. But because I don't believe in being a crutch for anyone as strong as you are, I'm not going to attempt to tell you what the problem could be. I want you to find that out for yourself. I hear you have a real knack for finding out things," she finished, downing the last of her coffee and pressing her lips together.

"And how do you want me to do that?" Jane asked, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Well, do you think writing in your journal is helping?"

"I don't know. Thinking a stranger was going to read it prevented me from getting the most out of it." He ran his thumb along the narrow spine of his personal journal.

"Perhaps, by the end of our time together, by the time I actually read your entries, you'll consider me to be more than a stranger." Her eyes twinkled gently, the barely discernible wrinkles at the corners of her smile only seeming to widen her lips, making her more congenial. "I'll see you next week, Patrick. Same time, okay?"

"We'll see," Jane said, rising from his chair to go. As he closed Dr. Owen's office door behind him, he stood holding his journal, contemplating what she had said.

Write twice a day in his journal, be honest, be sincere; help himself get to the bottom of these troubles that had nothing to do with Red John and nothing to do with his line of work (of that he was certain). Every Friday, visit Dr. Owen, discuss what he'd learned about himself. A friendship between himself and the good doctor was doubtful, but stranger things had happened. One of her predecessors, for instance, had tried to frame Lisbon for murder. Jane chuckled. That was definitely stranger.

During his musings, he had walked toward Lisbon's office. He didn't know why; he certainly wasn't divulging any information about his session with the shrink. Maybe he just needed to ask what he could do to help her in her quest for a dignified and traditional wedding.

He stopped short just outside Lisbon's office. Walter Mashburn had Teresa Lisbon in a comfortable embrace. He kissed her temple and released her. Lisbon's answering smile was one of the widest Jane had ever seen on her. His fingers clenched tightly around the journal.

"Today was wonderful, Teresa. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Don't forget, you're meeting my brothers on Monday, three o'clock?"

"Can't wait." He leaned in one more time to kiss her. "I love you."

Jane didn't wait to hear her return the sentiment. He was already gone.

**-:-**

_AUGUST 25TH, 11:14 PM_

_Devilishly handsome as always, though looking sort of tired  
>this evening. Probably because I ran away from the real murderer<br>as he was trying to shoot me. I tried to tell Lisbon, but...Anyway.  
>Saw her with Mashburn today. She looked happy. She's introducing<br>him to her brothers soon, after three months of dating him._

_ I haven't even met her brothers._

_Sleeping in the attic tonight._


	2. I Come to the Garden With Mashburn

Disclaimer: Same as yesterday. Still not mine.

**Note: Thank you so much to my reviewers. You are my inspiration to continue :) Mashburn features in this chapter a good deal (bear with me...please). Also, I have absolutely no idea if a church named Light of Day Church of All Faiths exists, and if it does, well...they'd better watch out for Jane.**

**2. I Come to the Garden (With Mashburn)**

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><p>Jane did not keep up with his journal over the weekend, as that wasn't part of the deal. And far be it from Jane to overexert himself. Instead, he took a Sunday drive to the beach. The summer season was coming to a close, but being California, it was still warm enough to attract a small population. Jane removed his jacket and spread it beneath him, then discarded his shoes and socks. Rolling up the legs of his pants, he dug his feet into the sand and relished the warmth of the sunlight through his clothes.<p>

He took a slow, deep, salty breath.

From the little he knew about the wedding (gleaned from bits of excited conversation between Grace and whomever would listen) Lisbon and Mashburn intended to wed in a small, pretty church near the CBI. Common sense assured him that this was Lisbon's idea, as her future husband could have flown them and a group of three hundred witnesses to an island if she had wanted.

He shook his head and lay back on his jacket, bits of his curly blond hair straying into the sand. He crossed his legs at the ankles and closed his eyes.

It had been okay at first. Mashburn had come to take Lisbon to lunch one day. And while Jane had thought it odd that she didn't refuse him (at least once, before giving in) he dismissed it as Lisbon just being polite. And then Mashburn returned the next day, and the next. Flowers made their way into her office, and they were extravagant enough that they needed no note for anyone to know their sender.

Then Jane began to pay attention to her. Her body language around Mashburn; her expressions; how she chose her words. It became evident (how had he not noticed it before!) that Lisbon had slept with her admirer, at least once. And it had not been recently. The sexual tension between them was evidence enough of that.

In the present, he rolled onto his side and off his jacket, allowing one side of his face to lay on the warm sand. All the signs were there, had been there for a long time. He just hadn't heeded them, hadn't thought anything could really exist between the guarded Lisbon and flashy Mashburn. If he had even thought a relationship to be possible, well...

_Well, what, Patrick?_ he could hear Dr. Owen ask. _What would you have done?_

The sounds of delighted shouts from beach goers and the crashing waves surrounded him.

_Nothing_, he decided. Lisbon was happy. His sort-of friend Mashburn was happy. Very soon, they would get married, have a bunch of babies, and be ridiculously wealthy all their lives. All was well with the world.

A nagging voice in his head questioned, _But what if he convinces her to leave the CBI?_ The unit wouldn't close as many cases. Murderers would roam the streets freely. Mayhem would ensue. People would lose faith in law enforcement and take matters into their own hands, resulting in a bloody massacre which could wipe out the entire population with enough time and not enough Lisbon.

All was _not _well with the world.

Jane propelled himself from the beach (then turned back very quickly to collect his shoes and jacket), determined to foil Lisbon's thinly-veiled plot to end all civilization.

He'd had no idea how _selfish_ she could be.

**-:-**

_AUGUST 28TH, 7:28 AM:_

_Monday morning, and I am dressed to kill. But I wouldn't, because then  
><em>_I would be in jail, and I have to stop Lisbon. She's planning to slaughter  
><em>_millions of people, but I won't share this with you, Dr. Owen, until  
><em>_the time comes when you read this journal. If I succeed, then  
><em>_you can thank me. If not...well, you'll be dead, and I don't think  
><em>_it would be possible for you to glower at me, anyway._

_On a lighter note, I am feeling refreshed, though it is not due to sleeping  
>well. In fact, I stayed up all night thinking of ways to carry out<br>this mission, and I realized that only a truly dedicated and  
>wonderful person would be this concerned about the fate of mankind.<em>

_This journal thing really is doing wonders for my self esteem._

**-:-**

Jane was exactly twenty minutes late to work, but he determined that the offering of donuts and the bear claw from Marie's would dissuade Lisbon from yelling at him.

He was wrong.

But it was amusing to watch her glare scornfully at him around a pastry.

"I want you with the rest of the team in ten minutes. We have a case, and I need to go over the particulars." She took the last bite of her bear claw and wiped her mouth with the napkin before balling it up and tossing it into her wastebasket. Jane nodded.

"There is something I'd like to ask you first, Lisbon, if that's all right." His tone made her look up from her desk. Her quizzical expression gave him the strength to keep his own face straight.

"What is it? Is something wrong? Is it Walter?"

He gagged (internally, of course). But he decided to go with it.

"Well, yes, actually," (Lisbon visibly tensed), "because I'd like to help you two with the wedding. The planning, I mean." He folded his hands in his lap and watched her relax, emotions flickering across her face in rapid succession. Finally, she settled on wary disbelief.

"Why, Jane? You don't even like Walter."

"Of course I do! He's spontaneous and a lot of fun. Besides, I still feel bad about his car. And you're...my friend...and I know how stressful planning a wedding can be. You know how I love big parties," he winked.

"Jane...I...appreciate the offer...but don't you think, in light of certain things...that participating in this might be difficult for you?" she asked gently, careful to maintain unwavering eye contact. It was a very "Lisbon" gesture. Jane sat up a little straighter in his seat.

"I have considered that, and I can assure you that it won't be a problem. I am one-hundred percent dedicated to making this as painless as possible." He smiled. _For me._

"Well," she said, sounding reassured, "what is it that you want to do?"

And just like that, he was in. He told Lisbon he had heard from Grace that the soon-to-be newlyweds were having a bit of trouble with the wedding's location. Lisbon confirmed this, blushing.

"The reverend at the church knows about Walter's reputation for wild parties. He doesn't think his church can accommodate Walter or any of his guests." She bit her lip and stared at her hands. Jane felt a tiny ray of something like hope shine through him.

"That doesn't sound very Christian of him."

"Well, I understand, really. He was very nice in explaining everything, that he is responsible for the property, and it's a small place. If anything should happen, there's not any way for either the reverend or the congregation to be able to pay for damages. It's a beautiful church, though," she said wistfully, "and it's perfect for a wedding."

"Forgive me for asking this," Jane began, standing and smoothing his suit, "but since the place is so small, it could use some kind of funding, right? Why can't Mashburn just offer the man a generous donation?"

"He has already tried that," Lisbon answered, sinking lower into her chair. Obviously, Mashburn's tendency to buy and coerce people into his way of thinking was embarrassing for her to discuss, even with Jane. He wondered for a moment if Lisbon saw him that way, as a person who didn't care how low they had to stoop to get what they wanted. Well, he would correct that.

"Hmm. So this reverend really is a man of God. Easy enough." He shrugged and turned to leave. When her office door was nearly closed behind him, he said over his shoulder, "Better give me at least week, though. Men of faith can be tricky."

Lisbon smiled to herself.

**-:-**

The case was not a difficult one. Classic woman-murders-her-husband over money. As it sometimes happened, Jane's skill set wasn't needed at all. There was enough evidence to lock away the new widow for life.

"Kinda makes you wonder why people get married, doesn't it?" Jane asked Lisbon, careful to keep his voice light.

Lisbon threw him a look.

"I guess that's as much a mystery as why I haven't shot you yet."

Jane decided to drop the matter. The case was wrapped up within hours, and he was still alive.

Fortunately, since the team didn't need him, he had ample time to procure the church of Lisbon's dreams for her wedding. But he couldn't do it alone. As soon as the handcuffs closed around the widow's wrists, he extracted his cell phone from his jacket and made sure he was out of Lisbon's earshot. Locating the number in his contacts, he pressed "send." He waited a moment until someone picked up mid-ring.

"Mashburn."

"Mashy! It's good to hear your voice! How are you today?" Jane asked, putting as many rainbows and bunnies into his voice as possible. He dug his free hand into his pocket and watched Lisbon from across the street as she helped the murderer into the car.

"I'm great, Jane. What's going on with you?" Like Lisbon, Mashburn sounded confused, but in a more excited way. Jane could not contain his grin.

"Well, I've heard your lovely future bride has her heart set on a church, and there's been some trouble with that venue?"

"Yeah, that's right. I even offered to donate to the church regularly," he snorted, "but the reverend just wasn't having it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jane answered. "What if I told you I had a way to get Lisbon what she really wants?"

An hour later, Mashburn arrived at the CBI to collect Jane. Lisbon looked disbelieving when Jane told her where they were going, but she knew nothing was going to stop them.

"Just don't use your one phone call on me, Jane. I'm not bailing you out. And that goes for you, too, Walter." But she was smiling as she turned and walked away (the smile being solely for Jane, of course).

A few minutes later, they arrived at Light of Day Church of All Faiths; it was, as Lisbon said, not a large place, but it was painted a pristine white and featured numerous beautiful stained-glass windows. It was set apart from the highway by a pretty driveway lined with small trees. Lisbon had been right; it was perfect for a wedding.

Mashburn parked in the gravel lot at the side of the church, and Jane rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"Now, Walter, I need to know that you are prepared to do anything-_anything_-should I screw this up and need bail money or medical attention."

"I would follow you to the ends of the earth, my darling."

Jane grinned almost maniacally.

"Better not let Lisbon hear you say that!"

They entered the church by ascending a small set of steps and going through two heavy doors, behind which was a sort of lobby area. A table was set to the side with a mirror above it and was filled with candles of all shapes and sizes. Some were lit so that the flames danced and reflected around the room, giving it a soft, welcoming glow.

A narrow aisle separated pews on either side and ran straight into the altar, which was composed of a wooden railing for churchgoers to kneel and pray. There was a tall podium for the reverend officiating and a set of a few benches for a choir. But the truly fascinating beauty of the church was clearly its windows; the sun filtering through their many colored panes nearly took Jane's breath away (he was such a good, _sensitive_ man).

"May I be of some assistance, gentlemen?" asked a deep, throaty voice, and Jane turned to see an older, congenial man walking toward them, a Bible in his hands.

"I believe so! My name is Patrick Jane," he said, extending his hand, "and this is my good friend, Walter Mashburn."

The reverend drew himself up into a more formal stature, obviously familiar with the Mashburn name.

"I am Reverend Adam Peterson, and I know why you are here. It pained me on the previous occasion to tell Miss Lisbon of my decision, of which I'm sure you are aware, but the decision stands. I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Jane could tell the man really meant it.

"But," Jane said, holding up a finger, "we have come here today to show you that, not only is Walter Mashburn capable of throwing an excellent party, but he is truly a generous and well-mannered man."

Mashburn saw a little too late where Jane was going with his supposed fool-proof plan.

Several hours later, the two men thanked the reverend, agreed to visit the church every day and have finished their work in time for Sunday mass. They buckled their seat belts and Mashburn exhaled loudly.

Jane looked at the man beside him. He was sunburnt, smeared with sweat and caked with dirt. His expensive suit was definitely ruined; Jane wondered if Mashburn would have to go shopping that evening just to buy clothes to wear that week. He'd already bought enough gardening soil, mulch, flowers, fruit trees, spades, shovels, etc. to shrink even his hefty bank account.

"Cheer up, Mashy. This is going to be great. We're already in!"

"Why couldn't we just make a donation?" Mashburn almost whined. Jane grinned as they went back the way they had come and pulled onto the highway.

"It's not about the money. The reverend is like Lisbon; people like her cherish hard work and the effort behind a gesture, more than monetary gain. That's something you'll come to learn about her," Jane finished, sneaking a sideways glance at the driver. He was laughing.

"Tell you what, Jane, it's like you know her better than I do."

He thought it best not to agree with him (out loud, anyway).

**-:-**

_AUGUST 28TH, 11:30 PM_

_I look happy (I committed two crimes today). One, I broke  
><em>_into Lisbon's house to use her shower. It was nice, and her shampoo  
><em>_is better than mine. Two, I told Mashy he looked dashing in his  
><em>_new gardening jeans. My plan to show the reverend that the lovebirds  
><em>_(namely, the groom) are responsible, caring people is going well.  
><em>_By the end of the week, Light of Day Church of All Faiths will boast  
><em>_a fantastic new prayer garden, courtesy of my aching muscles. But I can  
><em>_honestly say, even though I don't buy into religion, it felt good to help the  
><em>_reverend. Maybe tomorrow I'll try praying that Lisbon wises up  
><em>_about this wedding business and chooses not to marry Mashburn._

_Do you think God answers prayers like that?_


	3. To Cast Unreasonable Doubt

Disclaimer: It's not mine, otherwise the season finale would end on a happier note than I believe it will.

**Note: Thanks again to my reviewers! You make me light up like Jane when he's harassing Lisbon.**

3. To Cast (Un)reasonable Doubt

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><p><em>AUGUST 29TH, 8:45 AM:<em>

_ Disheveled but in a sexy, distinguished sort of way. I was late to  
>work this morning, so I grabbed my journal and am now hiding out<br>in Lisbon's office. She keeps sneaking glances at me, I'm sure of it.  
>And it's not because she's irritated with my tardiness. I've<br>caught her gaze twice now. The first time, she looked embarrassed,  
>but the second, she couldn't look away. And now I can't, without understanding why.<em>

_Her hair looks nice today._

**-:-**

Jane and Mashburn had to wait significantly later in the day to begin work at the church. Lisbon said she couldn't allow her consultant to wander around town during the day when he should have been at work ("But, Lisbon, I don't do anything here anyway!") and her decision was not up for discussion.

And so it was decided that every day around 4:30 in the afternoon, Mashburn and Jane would begin their grueling task to beautify the grounds of Light of Day Church of All Faiths. Their first stop that Tuesday, however, was to buy Mashburn additional pairs of jeans.

_AUGUST 29TH, 11:37 PM:_

_Clean and spiffy, all except for the dirt under my fingernails.  
>I'm close enough to perfect as I am. My reflection nods in agreement.<em>

_It's only Tuesday, but most of the difficult work is done. Reverend  
>Adam Peterson has been more than cooperative, even<br>assisting us with our workload today. Or maybe he just liked  
>seeing Mashburn sweat for a change. Either way, we are<br>winning his favor, and that means good things for my plan. Once  
>Lisbon sees that I'm serious about helping her, she'll open<br>up to me and I'll have an advantage. She won't even see it coming._

Jane had a nightmare that night, but it was not in keeping with the usual. He was standing at the end of the aisle on Lisbon's wedding day, just hovering there, and noticed that Mashburn was waiting, flanked by several groomsmen and Cho. Van Pelt and other ladies dressed in sage green gowns were there, too. Then Lisbon started toward them, toward Mashburn. Her veil hid her face, and he felt the very surreal realization hit him that this was, in fact, just a dream. But he didn't wake up, couldn't wake up. There was no sound at all, not even music. The people in the audience were up to their necks in fog.

Lisbon reached Mashburn and after a moment of his lips moving and no words coming out, he lifted her veil.

Lisbon's skin was pale, almost translucent. She had dark bags under her eyes and she looked miserable and fragile, totally unlike herself. Her unsmiling eyes held none of their usual vivacious gleam. Jane's dream-self reached out a hand to her, but in vain; he couldn't reach her. Something pulled him back, to the back of the church, through the wall, outside, and up. He was abruptly awake and felt strictly too warm to be comfortable; for some unfathomable reason, he felt a burning but short-lived anger toward Mashburn. He had to remind himself that he did not believe in psychics or premonitions or any of that nonsense before he could remember how to get dressed.

_AUGUST 30TH, 7:20 AM_

_I look like shit, and I do not want to talk about it._

**-:-**

_AUGUST 30TH, 10:56 PM_

_Tired. So unbelievably tired. I don't know if it's the lack of a  
>new case as a distraction, but twice I considered accidentally falling<br>on Mashburn with my spade in my hand, and then burying him  
>right there in the prayer garden. But I realized this was a silly idea<br>(the reverend was watching)._

_Hopefully I'm tired enough that I won't be able to dream tonight._

**-:-**

Jane awoke around three a.m. Thursday morning and was suddenly wide awake. He determined that attempting to sleep any time soon was a waste of precious hours that should be devoted to saving the lives of millions of unsuspecting civilians.

So he headed to the church to work.

For three hours, he poured soil, laid brick, planted flowers, trimmed and sculpted and spruced. The reverend was not there, and neither was Mashburn; he hadn't felt the need to call them, and he didn't know why. Hadn't this entire project been for the benefit of Mashburn, so that he could show his good character to the reverend? And now the latter wasn't here to even observe, to witness the coming together of what they had envisioned. Hadn't the point been to secure this place for Lisbon's wedding, so that she would trust him?

_No_, he thought. Looking back on the week, he realized that even with Mashburn there, he had thought minimally of the actual wedding. Instead, he had pictured Lisbon's face when he told her she could have the church all to herself for one day, for her special day. _Her glowing, appreciative, admiring, amazed, happy face._

He dropped the watering can he'd been holding and wiped the back of his arm against his forehead. He had an epiphany, right then and there. He realized what he needed to do, and he wondered why it had not occurred to him much sooner.

_Time to buy more flowers._

**-:-**

_AUGUST 31ST, 7:12 AM_

_Never you mind how I look this morning, Dr. Owen. I assure you I'm sexy as always. Now, down to business._

_I've spent the past several days believing that I had to get inside Lisbon's  
>head by winning her approval and trust with this whole wedding thing.<br>But I've been going about it all wrong. If I make things go so  
>smoothly for her, she'll never see the error of her ways and she'll<br>marry Mashburn and that will certainly be the end of her career at the CBI.  
>No, Dr. Owen, if there is one thing I have learned in all my years of...being me...<br>it's how to make someone come over to my way of thinking: make them  
>doubt themselves. The Lovely Lawful Lisbon would agree that reasonable doubt<br>definitely stalls a case. It gives the jury something to deliberate upon, thus  
>buying the defendant more time and perhaps another appeal (assuming there<br>is a mistrial or some such other legal jargon I'm forgetting). So, the only thing  
>I need to do is plant that seed of doubt, and hopefully avoid seeing either myself<br>or Lisbon in prison garb (although, it might be an amusing look for Mashburn)._

_And how do you make a woman who is engaged to be married doubt herself  
><em>_enough to stall her wedding plans? Woo her yourself! And if there is one thing  
><em>_I am perfectly and completely capable of doing, it's wooing a woman.  
><em>_Or driving her insane. Come to think of it, Lisbon might need a shrink soon, too. _

_I'll be sure to tell her you come highly recommended!_

**-:-**

After a quick shower, Jane rushed to the nearest flower shop and bought a dozen fresh daisies. He thought perhaps standing there for ten minutes deliberating on which flower conveyed just the right amount of friendliness and affection was a bit obsessive. The florist seemed to be in agreement, and was glad to see him go.

He arrived at the CBI at exactly 8:15, and boarded the elevator looking, he was sure, like a man with a plan.

The young agent on the elevator beside him peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. Her glasses and cute, light blonde hair made her look a little out of place there. She smiled.

"You here to see your wife?" she asked, nodding toward the flowers. Jane detected a hopeful undertone.

"Nope," he answered, smiling widely. The young woman's expression seemed to brighten. "Not my wife. Soon to be someone else's wife. Well, not if I can help it. He's a good guy, don't get me wrong, but entirely wrong for her. Too rich, too powerful, too...brunette." The elevator dinged to announce that Jane had arrived at his floor, and he stepped off with a wink at the girl behind him, chuckling beneath his breath as he watched her gaping after him.

He walked toward Lisbon's office and was mere feet away when Cho appeared, carrying a cup of coffee and a book. He regarded Jane with the same amount of interest as usual.

"Hello, Cho! Is Lisbon in her office?"

Cho raised an eyebrow, but Jane kept walking.

"Yeah. Mashburn's with her. He was bragging to me about some garden thing he built for her as a wedding present."

The warning came a second too late. Lisbon's office door was closed, but he could see the two of them through the blinds. Mashburn had one hand at the side of her face; Lisbon's arms hung at her sides. The man nearly had to stoop down to plant a gentle kiss on her lips. Lisbon closed her eyes and responded immediately. It was nothing lewd, nothing outrageous. It wasn't the slightest bit unprofessional, especially not for two engaged adults, and it lasted only a few seconds.

Jane was caught off-guard, to say the least. Knowing that Lisbon and Mashburn had a physical relationship was one thing. Seeing it, even only briefly, was another matter entirely.

And that dirty bastard had taken credit for _everything._

Mashburn had already opened the door to Lisbon's office and said Jane's name once before he responded. Cho cleared his throat and took a sip of coffee.

"Hey, Jane! Who are the flowers for?" Mashburn asked, looking happy and clueless. Jane glanced over his shoulder at Lisbon, who was sitting at her desk, equally oblivious.

He grimaced.

"These? They're for Cho, of course. Cho...happy birthday." Jane thrust the flowers at his colleague and stalked off, leaving them alone.

"What was that all about?" Mashburn questioned, looking after Jane suspiciously. Cho recognized his thought process and felt a need to intervene.

"You heard him. It's my birthday. Did you get me anything?" Cho asked very seriously. Mashburn blinked.

"Uh, no, I...er..."

"Forget about it, man. I'm going to put these in some water." He turned to put his book and coffee on his desk and disappeared, leaving Mashburn staring after him.

Rigsby was in the kitchen area, raiding the fridge, and he paused to look up as Cho put a bunch of daisies in a tall glass from the cupboard over the sink. As he was filling it with water, Rigsby cleared his throat.

"Something you want to tell me, Cho?" he questioned, taking a bite of someone else's sandwich.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Cho answered. Then, just to mess with him: "You know that's Hightower's lunch, right?"


	4. Do You Have An Appointment?

Disclaimer: Jane's hair is blonde,

Jane's eyes are blue.

He is not mine:

It's sad, but it's true.

Note: I totally can't believe it's been so long since I updated this, but I have an excuse, really! Work, work, and...yes, even some vacation! But things are getting back to normal, so I should be able to update more regularly. Oh. Did I mention that I adore reviews? ;)

**4. Do You Have An Appointment?**

* * *

><p><em>JUNE 1ST, 7:15 AM<em>

_The mirror isn't loving me so much this morning, but Lisbon will...you'll see!_

_I have made a promise to myself that I will not, from this moment forward,  
>allow myself to be affected by what I witness between Lisbon and Mashburn.<br>Any distraction could jeopardize my mission, and I cannot fail.  
>You're on my side, right? Well, you would be if you knew the severity<br>of the situation. I'm doing this for the innocent people, Dr. Owen.  
>That means you. That means me. Think of the people. Think of the <em>babies._  
>For Heaven's sake, think of the babies!<em>

_By the way, I realize it is Friday morning and I will be coming to visit  
>you this afternoon. Sorry I didn't record an entry last night, but I did<br>draw a fantastic map of Disneyland, from memory and in color,  
>where that entry should have been.<em>

_You're welcome._

-:-

"Alright, Cho. Show me what we've got."

"Shanna Murphy. Caucasian female, age twenty-three. Waitress at a mom-and-pop burger joint in downtown Los Angeles, didn't come home last Wednesday after closing up the restaurant, but the owner says she was definitely there at ten p.m. Boyfriend got nervous and called the police the next day; they found her car about a quarter mile from the route she would normally take home after work. Found the body in the trunk about an hour ago; no sign of the murder weapon. Coroner put the cause of death as blunt force trauma to the head, time of death in the early hours of last Thursday morning."

"Okay. Van Pelt, I want to know if Miss Murphy made any stops after she left work, for gas, cigarettes, anything."

"Yes, boss. I'll check with her credit card company and the traffic cams on her street."

"Great. Rigsby, you can finish that later. We have a refrigerator for a reason."

"Of course, boss."

"Cho, take Rigsby with you to the restaurant; talk to Murphy's coworkers, her employer, regular customers if you can. Jane, you're with...Jane? Damn it, has anybody seen Jane?"

The team looked around as if that mild effort would produce the consultant, but it was in vain. Lisbon narrowed her eyes, one brow cocked toward her hairline and her jaw firmly set. She looked from one member of her team to the next. Van Pelt looked genuinely bewildered, Cho was unreadable as always...but Rigsby, who had inhaled the other half of what appeared to be an entire cow, could not meet her gaze.

"Rigsby? Where is Jane?" she asked softly, but sounding very intimidating to poor Rigsby, she was certain.

"Um...well...I saw him this morning. He seemed pretty intense. I think he went up to the attic, and I haven't seen him since. But he told me Hightower recommended he see the office shrink every Friday." He sat back in his chair, more relaxed now, with a slight smile on his face. The smile of the unburdened and unsuspended. Lisbon rubbed her temples and groaned, then stood. No one bothered to ask where she was going.

Cho cast a sideways glance at the bigger man.

"Traitor."

"What was I supposed to do? She was going to find him eventually anyway."

"Following that logic, you should be on your way to Hightower's office right now. It's only a matter of time before she realizes what happened to her turkey and swiss yesterday."

Rigsby's eyes widened.

"You _wouldn't_."

Cho stood and collected his jacket from the back of his chair. Rigsby followed his every move with bated breath.

"Let's go. We need to beat the lunch crowd to that restaurant."

-:-

"Now, Patrick, I feel that I must interject at this point."

"Is there a problem, Dr. Owen? I'm simply telling you what I've learned about myself this week, as you asked."

"Judging from what I'm hearing, you have a shocking lack of the ability to discern right from wrong. Your manipulative tendencies are alarming, to say the least! And all this is going on right under the roof of a law enforcement office?"

"Why, Miss Amelia! Do I detect from your tone that you are intrigued more than upset by my behavior?"

"That is beside the point, Patrick."

"No, Doctor. That is the point, exactly. You'll see when the time comes for you to read my journal. Things are going to get much better, or worse, depending on how you look at it; I guarantee you. Now, if you will excuse me; I'm more than fairly certain this phone call is quite urgent. This is Jane," he said, flipping open his buzzing cell phone. Dr. Owen watched him in mute interest from across her desk.

"Funniest man in the whole world, you are, Jane. I just went by the church, and do you know what I found there? The reverend, standing in a finished prayer garden! Praying! And he just couldn't stop singing your praises, Jane!"

"My praises? Why would he do a thing like that?" Jane asked, toning down the sarcasm; a fallout with the groom was something he didn't need.

"Well, I asked if he'd finished it himself, so he knew I hadn't done it, and he therefore deduced that you must have been responsible. I thought the whole idea of this little project of yours was to get me in good with the church, not steal the spotlight for yourself!" And Mashburn sounded more than a little perturbed; he was downright pissed off, and Jane couldn't figure out why. He'd already been guaranteed that he had procured the church for his wedding. Lisbon was thrilled. And furthermore, he'd already taken credit for Jane's idea and both their sweat and labor. All things considered, Jane had gotten the short end of the stick.

"Mashy, maybe you should be a little more grateful and a little less dramatic. Take it from someone who knows show business. The spotlight isn't everything."

At that moment, Lisbon opened the door to Dr. Owen's office, looking as enraged as Mashburn sounded. Jane smiled mischievously.

"Darling, something has come up at the office. I'm very sorry to have upset you and will do my best to make it up to you. How about a romantic dinner tonight around eight o'clock? Love you, too!" The line went dead and Jane, still smiling, closed his phone and tucked it in his pocket.

Lisbon immediately pounced on him, ignoring the presence of the other woman in the room.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Jane looked to his left. Then he looked to his right. Then he looked at the good doctor.

"Is this a trick question?" he inquired, enjoying watching Lisbon shake with frustration.

"No it is not a trick question! And stop flirting with my fiance! Now come with me, we have a case!"

"I totally understand. He's way too in love with me. The chase is done; I'm bored."

"Jane! Now!" Lisbon demanded, thrusting a fist with an outstretched, shaky index finger toward the door.

"Are...you gonna stamp your foot and start pulling your hair? Because I know this wonderful shrink-"

"Do you have an appointment, my dear?"

At that point, Lisbon stalled, blushing an even deeper shade of red than she had been seconds before. It finally seemed to dawn on her that she had been exhibiting near explosive behavior in the presence of the office shrink, who may or may not decide that Lisbon was mentally unfit for excursions into the field.

Jane was gesturing to Dr. Amelia Owen, who sat, bemused, behind a large desk. Spots danced before Lisbon's eyes. She slowly straightened, barely hearing Jane as he babbled incessantly about the doctor.

"I'm so, so sorry, Ma'am," Lisbon said, cutting across Jane to reach for Dr. Owen's hand. "I don't believe we have been formally introduced; I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon." She smiled humbly. Dr. Owen grinned at Lisbon's obvious distress, and for some insane reason, Jane felt very close to the doctor at that moment.

"Dr. Amelia Owen," she said, standing to shake Lisbon's hand. "I've heard a good deal about you, Miss Lisbon."

"Good things, hopefully," Lisbon mumbled, eyeing Jane scathingly. He smirked in reply.

"Only the best. Would you like to have a seat? Or is this not a good time?"

"I-well...there is...I really need Jane to come with me at the present moment. We have a case, and we need his particular...skill set..."

"I understand that very well. But as you can see, you have interrupted a session between myself and a patient. You have a job to do, of course; but what kind of doctor would I be to just allow my patient, of whose solid mental state I am unconvinced, to go on potentially dangerous missions? Especially during a time when I am scheduled to be assessing him? No, no, it won't do. You'll just have to come back later." As she spoke, she moved around her desk, keeping her face straight. Lisbon struggled to do the same, but was unsuccessful; she openly gaped at the woman, and Jane had to look away lest he burst into very feminine bouts of giggles. Dr. Owen practically pushed Lisbon out of her office, and once the agent was across the threshold, she seemed to regain her wits.

"Excuse me, Ma'am, but just how long is this going to take? This is a murder investigation."

"Agent Lisbon, I can assure you that whomever it is that is dead now will still be quite dead five minutes from now. Now, if you'll let me finish my session with Patrick, perhaps I can help him to focus, so that you may catch the killer all the more quickly."

And with that, she politely closed the door in Teresa Lisbon's face.

Dr. Owen walked around Jane, who was positively glowing with admiration, and reclaimed her seat behind her desk, maintaining a professional smile. She looked up at her patient and raised one eyebrow.

"I really, really like you," Jane said genuinely. Dr. Owen grinned.

"That's wonderful, Patrick. Now if we can just get you to say it to the right person."

Jane's smile faltered minutely. "I'm afraid I don't understand quite what you mean."

The doctor's eyes seemed to sparkle as she scribbled a note to herself on a sheet of paper.

"That's all for today, Patrick. Same time next week, hmm?"

-:-

Five minutes after Lisbon had been ushered from the office, Jane had emerged, amused to find her still puzzling over how a woman no bigger than she and with less authority had effectively told her, "no."

"Don't worry, my dear Lisbon. It happens to the best of us." It was not the right thing to say, because Lisbon's bony knuckles collided with his arm.

"Let's go, Jane. And if you even suggest that I need to see a shrink..." she said menacingly, and that was all the warning Jane needed. He followed behind her, rubbing his arm and grumbling about harassment in the workplace.

The two of them stopped by Van Pelt's desk to ask if she had discovered anything, and so far, she hadn't; as they descended on the elevator to the parking lot and buckled their seat belts in the CBI's SUV, Lisbon explained the details of the case to a mildly interested Jane. Something occurred to him suddenly, and he realized he desperately needed to ask Lisbon about it.

"So...how did it go Monday?"

"What do you mean? How did what go?" she asked, temporarily sidetracked as they stopped at a red light.

"I overheard you reminding Mashy that he was meeting the notorious Lisbon brothers this past Monday." (And he knew the meeting had not taken place; after all, Mashburn had been with him all Monday afternoon at the church.)

"Oh. Well, that didn't work out." The light turned green, and Lisbon pulled through it.

"That's a shame," Jane said, "because I'm sure they all would have gotten along."

"How do you know? You've never met my brothers," Lisbon said without malice, but it still hurt Jane nonetheless.

"I realize that, Lisbon. And why is that, I wonder?" This, Jane realized, was the best time to ask her the questions to which he wanted the most honest answers. Lisbon was a famously careful driver, and she was distracted at every turn, every intersection, every stop sign. He saw his chance, and he risked taking it. "Why don't you want me to meet them?"

"They care a lot about me, to the point of being overprotective. It scares people away." Right turn.

"And you're not worried that they'll scare Mashburn away?" Yield for interstate traffic.

"No. Walter loves me. He only cancelled meeting my brothers so he could make a deal about our church." Accelerate to merge onto highway.

"But you think they'll frighten me off?" Insistent, and very close to alerting her to what he was doing.

"I guess." Prepare to take the next exit to downtown Los Angeles. Jane took a deep breath and asked the question he hadn't known had been gnawing at him.

"Are you...in love, Lisbon? Are you sure you're doing the right thing?" Silence for five hundred feet.

"Yes, I'm in love, Jane. And yes, I'm doing the right thing."

Jane brakes for a massive traffic accident that Lisbon cannot see. But he feels it, he feels it, and he wishes the airbag would deploy and just smother him, but it doesn't.

Red light. Green light. _Go_.

-:-

_JUNE 1ST, 10:11 PM_

_I look like I've been involved in a horrible car accident.  
><em>_You won't understand that, or why it's ironic, but there it is._

_We have a case, and it's quite gruesome. My moral, decent side is  
>internally chastising me for not focusing on finding this innocent woman's<br>killer. But try as I might, there's only one thing on my mind,  
>and it isn't Shanna Murphy, poor thing.<em>

_My entire plan has fallen into shambles, as it depended on the notion  
>that Lisbon was marrying Mashburn for any reason other than<br>being in love with him. I've seen it; it happens all the time. Women are  
>tired of being alone, or they hear their biological clock ticking, or they<br>think the guy they're with is the best they'll ever find, or at least,  
>won't treat them horribly. What a fool I was to think that good,<br>respectable Lisbon would ever marry anyone for any reason other than  
>feeling real emotion for them. And now, I have no idea what to do.<br>A woman whose heart truly lies elsewhere is next to impossible to  
>win for oneself. Certainly, I could inform Lisbon that it was I who found<br>a way for her to have her wedding in the church of her dreams. I could lay  
>bare all of Mashburn's faults. I could express my opinion that the only<br>reason Mashburn had so willingly participated in my plan was so that he  
>wouldn't have to meet and win over Lisbon's brothers. He was able to trade<br>in one uncomfortable task for another, less unpleasant one and still hang on to Lisbon._

_Yes, I could tell her my side of everything, and take all the credit,  
>but then I'd be like Mashburn, and I don't truly believe that Lisbon<br>would want him if she knew him for what he is._

_I won't see Lisbon again for two days. He's probably with her right now._

_At least she's not alone._


End file.
